


Stress Relief

by GalahadWilder



Category: Miraculous Ladybug, Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir, miraculous
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Self-Bondage, Smut, aged-up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2018-12-24 04:56:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12005493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadWilder/pseuds/GalahadWilder
Summary: The stress is getting to Marinette. Being Ladybug, Class President, and a top designer while trying to stay on top of her grades is beginning to drive her nuts; she wishes she could just have a few minutes where she doesn't have to be totally in control.Her new... "hobby" promises to fix that, but it's a little more dangerous than she might expect. Which is why Chat Noir offers to help.Starts at angst and makes a left turn straight into smut territory. You've been warned.All characters written as legal age.





	1. A Precarious Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chat Noir goes on a hunt for his Lady, and finds something utterly unexpected and more than a little worrying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so here's the thing: I had a smut idea and wanted to run with it. HOWEVER, the way it started was kind of dangerous, and I wanted to address that.
> 
> So this is going to be several chapters, and a surprising amount of angst. Most of it packed into this chapter. This is porn with a plot, people, and the plot starts now.

Chat was starting to get worried.

He hadn't heard from Ladybug since the Akuma attack earlier in the day. This wasn't unusual in and of itself; they rarely spoke, outside of patrols, scheduling, and the occasional Akuma fight. What WAS unusual was that she hadn't messaged him to cancel patrol, and yet, thirty minutes late, and no Ladybug to be found. She was NEVER this late.

He slid open the screen on his baton on the off-chance that he'd missed a call or a message or SOMETHING, but nothing showed up. He slid it closed again and hooked it onto his belt, then looked up, sniffing the air. It was probably nothing, and maybe she'd meet him on patrol.

Thirty minutes later, once he finished his patrol, he began to get REALLY worried.

He messaged her again, tried another call, but still no answer. It didn't go straight to voicemail, so he was still getting her phone, but... she wasn't picking up. Was she okay? Could she reach her phone? Had she left it somewhere?

He couldn't shake the niggling feeling in the back of his head--just at the nape of his neck--that something was wrong. That she hadn't cancelled because she COULDNT cancel, that something...

Fuck. His Lady needed him.

He was moving before the thought had even finished, before he even realized that he'd decided to jump.

He made his way back to where the Akuma attack had finished. She'd been in a hurry, her Miraculous almost out of time, and had vanished onto a nearby rooftop. That was the last he'd seen of her, and that seemed like as good a place as any to start.

He arrived at the rooftop where he'd last seen her retreating form, bold and strong and beautiful, as she zipped off into the afternoon. He landed in absolute silence, like his namesake, his eyes scanning over the rooftop... before locking on to a small, female form lying on her side just below him.

And she was SQUIRMING.

In a most distracting manner.

Chat took a moment to compose himself as he stared down at the girl, attempting to ignore the rush of heat to his face or the rush of pressure to the front of his pants. He dropped down next to the girl, who was dressed in soft flannel pajamas... and something else very, very unexpected. Her wrists were handcuffed behind her back, linked by a short length of chain to another pair of handcuffs locked around her ankles. Her head came up, briefly, and she gasped (quite enticingly, he thought, before slapping down that part of him. Bad brain.) as she saw his face. "C-Chat?" she mumbled, her mouth forming into an O as the breath rushed out of her.

Chat stood there, completely gobsmacked, as he stared at her lying helpless on the roof.

"Marinette?"

He knelt down, taking in the bonds that held her tight against her own body. "Who did this to you?"

She bit her lip, looking down at the shingles of the ceiling below, her face redder than he'd ever seen it--quite a feat, for her. "Um," she stammered, pointedly looking away. "I did."

"On a random rooftop in the middle of Paris?" Chat replied, averting his gaze. Don't look don't look don't look, he thought, but no matter what he told himself, his eyes kept flicking back to the body of his classmate, who he couldn't help noticing was looking cuter than he'd ever seen and STOP THAT BRAIN THIS IS NOT THE TIME!

"Can you just--Ah!" She bucked suddenly, and Chat realized that he could hear a slight buzzing coming from... oh dear. He could smell it, too, hot and sticky need overpowering her usual delicious scent of cinnamon and yeast. "Can you get me home, please?"

"Oh, yeah, sure!" Chat said, his usually clever mind short-circuited by the assault on his senses from the girl in front of him. He gathered her up between his arms. "How did... how did you even get up here?" he asked, trying to distract himself from how suddenly VERY CLOSE and WARM she was through logistical questions. It was, after all, something that needed solving.

She huffed, or at least tried to, but was cut off as another buck and another intake of breath wracked her tiny frame. "Chat, *please*," she mewled. "Get me hooooome..." She shuddered, her eyes squeezing shut, her breath coming out in panting huffs.

"Oh, shit," Chat said. He wasn't sure what was happening, but it seemed not good. Was this an aftereffect of the Akuma, something that the Miraculous Cure hadn't taken care of? How had she gotten hit? Had she even been in the area?

His mind spinning, he launched himself towards the Dupain-Cheng Boulangerie & Patisserie, carrying in his arms the most precious cargo he'd ever held.

***

Chat landed on her bed as lightly as he could with Marinette still in his arms. "Keys," she gasped. "On my desk."

He laid her out gently on the bed, then leaped down towards the desk, snatched her keys, and flung himself back up the ladder. He unlocked her her wrists first, and she immediately reached into her pants, pulled out a small, buzzing object, and flung it across the room. It hit the wall with a wet _thwack_.

Chat unlocked her ankles. "How long were you out there?" he asked.

"Hours," Marinette said, rubbing her wrists. "I'm... I don't feel so good. I'm... I'm cold, Chat."

Chat gritted his teeth. "You're probably dehydrated," he said. "Do you have orange juice downstairs?"

She nodded.

He wrapped her in blankets as best he could, then raced down into the kitchen--and bumped face-first into the massive chest of Tom Dupain-Cheng.

"Oh, sorry, sir," he said on reflex, before looking up to see the man's wet red eyes.

"Chat Noir!" he gasped. "Did you find her? Did you find my little girl?"


	2. The Things Marinette Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chat wants an explanation for what he found last night, and Marinette isn't willing to give it to him.
> 
> But she may be willing to... be convinced. ;)

"So," Chat said, reclining on Marinette's chaise lounge, "what was that?"

Marinette minimized the window on her computer with a sigh. "Do we have to talk about it?"

Chat sat up. "You ended up in the hospital, Princess," he said. "I kinda think we do."

Marinette's parents had rushed her to the hospital as soon as she was home, calling back the search parties that they'd sent out for her. She'd told them she'd passed out after the Akuma attack - one look was all it took for Chat to realize that she didn't want him spilling the truth. Easy enough; the lie she'd told made a lot more sense than the truth did. How _had_  she ended up on that rooftop?

He'd been grateful for the surprise text he'd gotten from Ladybug, once Marinette made it to the hospital. Apparently she'd fallen asleep and missed patrol, and had forgotten to text him. It was a relief to know that she was okay, though it was interesting that his intuition about her had led him to Marinette instead.

Marinette had been treated for dehydration and heat exhaustion, as well as chafing on her wrists and ankles. The doctors had allowed her to return home the next morning, but she hadn't been to school that day. Adrien wasn't exactly surprised, given what had happened.

So of course Chat Noir had to check on her. He would've been a poor superhero - no, a poor _friend_  - if he hadn't.

"I told you, Chat, I don't want to talk about it," Marinette said. "Can you just leave me alone?"

"Not when it gets you hurt," Chat replied. "Not until I know you're okay."

Marinette stood. "Dammit, Chat!" she yelled. "Leave me _alone!_ "

She swung to slap him, but he caught her wrist before it could reach his face.

She yelped as his leather-clad palm met raw, reddened flesh. They both stared at the point where his palm met her wrist. Chat's gaze flicked to Marinette's, and he saw... He wasn't sure, but it wasn't good. Was she angry? Scared?

Chat released her wrist and stumbled backward. "Oh my god," he gasped. "I'm so sorry, Marinette."

She stared at her wrist. "No," she said, her face reddening. "Don't be."

"Are you kidding?" Chat said, leaning forward. "I hurt you! I never wanted to--"

Marinette swung her hand again, apparently to slap him. On reflex, he caught her wrist again, and again, she yelped. But this time, when she looked at it, her expression looked... hungry.

She shook her head. "I'm not going to tell you," she said, then turned to meet his eyes. "Are you going to... make me?" she purred.

Chat gulped. Her tone did _things_  to his brain, scrambled his thoughts and sent heat flooding through every part of his body. He was practically shivering under her predatory gaze.

Her eyes widened and she stepped back. "Oh my God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She covered her ears with her hands. "I'm such an idiot, I shouldn't have pushed it, I made it weird--"

He caught her wrist again, and she gasped. Then he snatched her other one out of the air. Stared at it. "Marinette," he said, "do you... like it when I do this?"

Marinette looked away, her lip caught between her teeth, and nodded.

Chat pulled her arms downward, crossed them behind her back. "You like it when I do this?"

"Mhmm," she mewled.

Chat turned her around, wrists still crossed behind her back. "And this?"

"Oh, yes," she gasped.

Chat snagged a piece of ribbon from her desk and wrapped it around her wrists, tying it in a makeshift bow. "So, Princess," he purred into her ear. "Someone likes being bad?"

She turned to look at him, a half-sideways glance that positively burned with lust and need. "So bad," she hissed. "Is Kitty going to do something about it?"

He sat her down on her swivel chair, wrists still tied behind her back. "Yes," he said. "We're going to talk."

Marinette visibly deflated. "Oh, come on!"

Chat leaned forward. "And then, if you're _very good_..." he whispered, "maybe we'll have some fun."

Marinette's shy, ravenous smile gave him the shivers. In the best way.


	3. Master Chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I finally got the inspiration to finish this chapter. I sort of know what I’m writing to? But not how I’m going to get there. So this is gonna keep updating super sporadically until I get there.

Chat Noir was trying to think this through, he really was. Letting this get out of hand might result in Marinette getting hurt again, and he couldn’t let that happen.

But it would’ve been so much easier to focus if Marinette would just stop _squirming_.

“Please, Chat,” she whimpered, straining against his belt tail, which he’d removed and lashed around her elbows to anchor her in her chair. “Touch me. Hurt me. _Please?”_ She stared at him through heavy-lidded eyes, and he felt the spark of them jolt through his chest and down to his pants, which grew uncomfortably tight.

”Marinette, stop,” he croaked. “I can’t.”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “I’m so horny right now and you are doing _nothing_ to help. Aren’t you supposed to be my knight?”

A younger Adrien would’ve been in an absolute panic, insisting to himself that Marinette was just a friend, that whatever was going on was too much for him, that he only loved Ladybug. But it had been years since then, and Adrien wasn’t the self-denying idiot he had been—he couldn’t help noticing how much Marinette had become part of his life, how much he’d come to depend on her presence, on her positivity and her energy. And, for that matter, how—despite not having grown an inch since they first met—Marinette’s baby fat had practically melted from her frame, leaving behind a lithe, sensual body that had begun sneaking into his guilty fantasies at night alongside the more familiar polka-dotted legs of his Lady. In short, Marinette was dead-drop heart-stop gorgeous, hot enough to melt even the chilliest of snow days, and he’d come to terms with the fact that he’d fallen just a little bit in love with her some time ago.

But he never thought he’d have a chance. He’d kept on trying to break down Ladybug’s walls, as she flirted back more and more and responded more positively to each of his ridiculous declarations, but he’d never thought anything would happen with Marinette. Never ever, not in a million years. He’d never be that lucky.

And now here she was, helpless, needy, vulnerable, begging him just to touch her.

Every part of him strained to oblige her.

“I can’t let you get hurt again,” he mumbled, almost more to himself than to her. “I... I can’t...”

”Worry about that later,” she whispered. Her eyes were hungry, consumed by her own desire, as she struggled against be belt and the ribbon that held her away from him. Wiggling in a way that drew his attention to her prefect round ass against the chair.

He shook his head, closed his eyes to block her out. “What happened last night,” he ground out. “Won’t happen again.” He opened his eyes and willed himself to meet hers, even though his heart stuttered in his chest as he did. “No more self-bondage, understand?”

Her face collapsed, and she fell forward, only to be halted by the belt that held her to the chair. “Yeah.”

His hand lashed forward, his fingers wrapping around her face, his claws resting delicately on her cheek. “What was that?” he snarled, failing to keep the grin from his face.

She looked back up, met his eyes, and suddenly her face sparked back to life. “Yes, sir,” she said, her voice meek, but her grin wide.

Oh, god. He was going to... His stomach flipped, but he refused to let it show.

”From now on, Princess,” he purred, “I’m the one who’ll tie you up...” He swallowed. “Until you find someone else to do it for you.” His hand fluttered down her neck to rest on her shoulder. “You’re stubborn, and I know you won’t stop, so I’ll at least keep you safe while you do it.”

“That sounds... good,” Marinette said with a satisfied hum.

”Now, I still have some questions...”

”No!” Marinette shrieked in glee, knocking herself, and the chair, to the ground and sliding out from the belt. “You’ll never get me to talk!”

”Oh, come on!” Chat said as he leaped to his feet. 

* * *

"Are you going to stop running away, or do I need to get more straps?" Chat drawled, resting his chin on his hand.

"Mrrr shrs," Marinette replied.

"What was that, Princess?" Chat said, leaning forward and running his claw up her bare thigh. "You want more straps?"

Marinette shuddered, closing her eyes. "Mmmm... Yf pweef," she moaned, drool soaking into the sock that he'd balled up and stuffed in her mouth.

"Hmm, well." He leaned back, scratching his chin and wiggling his eyebrows. "Good thing Princess has so many belts."

She grinned at him as best she could, despite her puffed-out cheeks.

"But no," he said. "I'm not giving you what you want here. I think three belts are enough to stop you from running away, aren't you?"

She'd tried to escape his questioning, leading him on a merry chase around the room as she giggled, running with her hands still tied behind her back. He'd finally caught her, using a belt to strap her to her computer chair, another to tie her ankles, and a third to tie her thighs. She wasn't going anywhere.

"Hmph," she grunted. "'Oo eh a 'olla."

Chat flicked the bell at his neck. "Is Princess jealous of my collar?" He smirked.

"Esh."

He leaned forward, his eyes locked on hers, his claws gently caressing her shoulders. "If you want one, Princess," he whispered, "you're going to have to _earn_  it."


End file.
